


Night train – Minho

by InoruMarufuji



Series: Nightmare [3]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bine you have a VIP pass so feel free to enter, Bine's Birthday Celebration: SKZ Nightmare Series, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disjointed narrative, Gen, Hallucinations, I don't think there's any hope for me, Keep walking, No Spoilers, Puzzle fic, THIS HELL IS MEMBERS ONLY, They aren't specified because spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, lots and lots of it, triggering elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InoruMarufuji/pseuds/InoruMarufuji
Summary: [M̳a̳z̳e̳ ̳o̳f̳ ̳M̳e̳m̳o̳r̳i̳e̳s̳|Side Effects][3/9] Right now, what I see are all lies. - Maze of Memories
Series: Nightmare [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569787
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Night train – Minho

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyAreAllUsernamesTaken/gifts).



> Day 3 of Bine's birthday celebration!

[ **Maze of Memories** | ~~Side Effects~~ ]

Night trains were a weird thing.

In Minho's mind, they always seemed quieter, more peaceful compared to their counterparts at day, surrounded by an aura of mystery.

Even if it was the exact same train, it just seemed to glide through the landscape much more calmly at night, detached and unbothered from the hectic life it held as if it was finally at peace with itself.

It gently caressed tired passengers within its walls and lulled them into a deep sleep, it understood the wish to escape from this harsh reality and it tried to ease the wounds that had torn open during the day, again and again.

It was futile resistance against life itself, but it was enough for many who just wanted to drift off and dream of something better.

Minho wanted to dream of something better too.

It was one of the primary reasons he still found himself at the train station at night, wrapped only in a thin jacket that did nothing to combat the cold seeping into his bones, the cold that made every breath cut through his lungs like shards of glass.

He was pretty sure he was bleeding, slowly suffocating on the liquid that was welling up in his throat from all the cuts, but he merely smiled to himself at the sensation.

His body had given up trying to communicate anything to him and he wouldn't have listened to it either way, not after the massive betrayal he had to experience at its hands.

''Aren't you cold?''

A familiar voice reached his ears and he looked around almost lazily, not finding it in himself to get excited.

His surroundings were void of any people, it was only him at the station, him and the lonely clock next to the building that whispered secrets to him with each tick that resounded across the empty place.

Time was such a treasure to Minho.

It hadn't always been like that, he used to wish for time to go faster when he was stuck in boring conversations, when Chan scolded the group for their mistakes, when he waited for an evaluation that he knew couldn't be positive-...

Waiting had been such a torturous concept for him back then, however, as it stood now, his favorite part about his nightly trips just had to be waiting for the train to arrive.

It was such an amazing feeling of serenity being all alone like this and waiting for his companion to pick him up and take him to places unknown that he wouldn't have dared to step foot into otherwise.

''Minho, let's go somewhere together again?''

Yes, Minho had cut him out completely, all of them actually, but what had he been supposed to do?

His numb fingers grazed the display of his phone that he was sure displayed tons upon tons of messages again and for a moment, he considered giving in.

It was tempting to just go back, forget that this had ever happened and pour his heart out to people who understood him better than he understood himself.

His eyes lingered on the locked gate surrounding the station, meant to keep animals and children away from the rails, yet still easy to cross over if someone truly put their mind to it.

The gate was like a border between the outside and Minho's inside, the one where he was all alone and yearning for nothing except for the arrival of the train.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and Minho didn't know why, but he pulled it out, the bright light hurting his eyes as it displayed a number to him that he used to associate with Jisung, the name long since erased from his contacts, leaving him with nothing but random digits instead.

It was a foreign sight, but one that suited Jisung much better.

He was a number for Minho, a number like the ones trains had stamped on their sides.

Random. Impersonal. Replaceable.

The clock whispered to him that he couldn't take the call if he didn't want to miss his train, urged him to avoid any and all confrontation that he knew had been coming his way ever since he'd made that dreadful decision, the one that had lead his team into their demise.

Technically it wasn't even his team anymore.

They were just random people to him, strangers, just kids that strayed without having a place to stay in this cruel world, driven only by the broken excuse of a dream they were pursuing and the useless bonds they had with each other.

They were holding onto them tightly as if they were the only thing they had left of themselves, as if they weren't already falling apart behind their back without them knowing.

Their persistence was admirable, but so utterly pathetic.

Still, Minho could humor them this once.

''Hyung? Oh god, I thought you wouldn't pick up, I've tried so many times! Please, just... just talk to us, to any of us, it doesn't have to be me! Something awful happened, I need your help, I can't-''

Jisung's voice cracked and almost simultaneously, the train rolled into the station, slow, steady and inviting to Minho as its doors opened all on their own and presented the interior he had grown to love.

By all means, there wasn't anything special about it from an outsider perspective, just plain old seats showing off a slightly higher comfort level than those in a bus and cozy dimmed lights, but for him, it couldn't have been a more perfect escape.

''Hyung, talk to me, this is an emergency!''

Jisung was screaming at him through the phone, his voice disturbing the peaceful night and hurting Minho more than the cold did, hurting him in a way he hadn't quite experienced for some time.

Jisung's voice touched something deep within him, hidden behind the useless walls he had built around himself, and it made him both furious and grateful for reasons he couldn't grasp.

It was annoying. He was annoying.

Irritating even.

''Hyung! Changbin hyung!''

Aha.

So that was how it was.

The frantic screaming suddenly stilled, the phone screen cracking from the impact it had made with the train's wheel.

Minho felt better.

He let out a shaky exhale, his breath making small puffs in the chilling air around him, while his hands fumbled for the ticket in his pocket, its sharp edges cutting into his skin as he got hold of it.

It always hurt him, had been since the first day he had bought it, but it was a small price to pay in exchange for being able to get on every train he desired.

They knew him by now and once they'd gotten over the initial issue of Minho not being able to communicate with them, the rides had become immensely comfortable for him, staff providing him with an extra cabin just for himself, some wine and the latest newspaper.

The way they were spoiling him like this made him feel as if he was special, worth something, and he couldn't deny that he soaked all this privilege up like a sponge.

''Is this your stop, Minho?''

The voice sounded so distorted, so foreign, so unlike the one he had grown used to hearing and it made him more hesitant to listen, to reply, to acknowledge.

He was unable to form words anyway, so there was little he could do except give a short nod to whoever was addressing him as he started to approach the open doors.

Yes, this was his stop, this was where he always hung around at night, hidden away from the straying kids and their worried shouting for a member they couldn't find.

He shouldn't be offended about it anymore.

He shouldn't be offended that they had forgotten about him, after all, he wasn't _really_ alone.

Or... maybe he was.

It was hard to judge.

The train's doors closed behind him, the rumbling from somewhere under him telling him it was ready to continue its journey, so he strode towards his usual spot where the lights were even further dimmed and the stars shone brighter through the window.

No one seemed to be here at this ungodly hour of three fifteen in the morning, but he couldn't hold it against anyone, he had only realized the joy of being out here this early a few months ago.

Was it really months though?

The thought made him halt for a second as he pondered today's exact date, yet when he came up blank, he reached for the newspaper that lay neatly folded on the seat he always occupied.

His seat.

The seat he had been sitting in since day one.

He unfolded the paper, hoping for a date to greet him, but not really surprised when only a single word looked up at him, the letters innocent enough in and of themselves, but still stirring up a terrifying mix of fear and horror inside him.

_Tuesday._

Tuesday.

The word sounded so wrong in his mind and he felt his body breaking into a cold sweat.

Tuesday? Why was it Tuesday?

His eyes found their way to the first article all on their own and he shuddered as he realized that the article was composed of nothing more than a certain name repeated over and over until it reached the bottom of the page.

Minho knew the name.

He knew it, far too well actually, but he couldn't read it, his brain refusing to process the letters he was seeing.

The train suddenly seemed way too fast for him, its walls way too close for comfort and the ground way too far away from the wheels and he was dizzy as he staggered further into the train, completely disregarding his seat and the newspaper that slowly slipped from his hand.

It didn't feel right.

It didn't feel right to sit in his spot anymore, he needed to find another.

The cheap lights flickered above him, shedding their cheap light on the cheap interior around him and illuminating seats that were nearly torn and incredibly dirty, dripping with a wet substance that pooled on the floor as a dark brown.

The smell that hit him was overwhelming, something metallic and sickly sweet mixed with the disgusting aroma of sweat and the chilling sensation of charred tires.

A shiver went through him and his stomach rumbled, repulsed by the smell Minho was subjecting it to, so he hurried through the gruesome cabin into the next, hoping to find some relief there.

There was none.

The same smell greeted him, pulling painfully at the memories he had hidden deep within himself and he suddenly felt the urge to vomit his entire stomach up, his stomach and his lungs and his heart too while he was at it.

He just didn't want to think about it anymore.

''Minho, are you feeling unwell?''

The voice was taunting him, its tone nothing short of innocent pretense.

Sickening.

The lights above him flickered once again before extinguishing completely, making the red emergency lights flare up all around him, brighter and painful to look at for a longer time.

He shielded his tired eyes and looked down in an attempt to escape the light, but he really shouldn't have because that was when he saw it.

And despite the blood that was still clogging his throat, he screamed.

He'd seen a lot of awful, nasty, repellent things in his life, but nothing, absolutely nothing, not even the worst horror movie, could have prepared him for the sight in front of him.

Why him? Why again?

He'd known deep down that he couldn't escape these-... these _things_ at his feet, and yet he had still tried to tune their existence out in an attempt to regain his peaceful sleep, his undisturbed dreams that cradled him, protecting him from the demons that haunted him.

_Who was it?_

They whispered the words in his ears in a sickening voice, invisible claws reaching out to pull him down into hell again, down where he belonged.

The train screeched to a stop, but for a moment, Minho couldn't register it, the vile nightmare he was trapped in all too real as he started to choke.

He'd gotten a glimpse of the world's cruelty before, his defeat at its hands soulcrushing, but he would have gladly put himself through this misery all over if it meant he could have prevented this.

Because it was Tuesday again. It really was.

He was sickening.

The doors opened, fresh night air pouring into the sticky and suffocating train and even though Minho wanted nothing more than to just storm out and leave the gruesome scene behind, he knew it wasn't his stop yet and leaving now would just lead to him getting lost.

''Minho?''

The scream died in his throat, the clot of blood dissipating as the scared voice reached his ears and he tore his gaze away from the floor to meet brown eyes that were looking at him in shock.

Oh. _Oh._

This was new.

Never before had someone joined Minho's lonely adventures, especially not someone who used to be acquainted with him, so he was unsure what to say in reply or even if he should reply at all.

They stared at each other for a painfully long second, both of them waiting for the other to acknowledge them, but before Minho could speak up, tears began to form in the boy's eyes and he quickly crossed what little distance there was between them to embrace Minho.

Minho's body went rigid, not used to someone touching him after this long of a time, but the sigh he heaved was one of complete bliss as he finally got to experience a feeling again that he didn't even know how much he had missed until he had it back.

Comfort. Warmth. Peace.

It was a different kind of peace from the one he had made with himself when he had cut off the rest of them, much purer and much more soothing, able to blow all of his anxieties out of the window and promise him a blooming future yet to come.

It was in any and all ways perfect.

And that made it despicable.

The boy sobbed, tightly pressing Minho's body to his own in an attempt to convince himself that this was real, but it didn't reach Minho's heart.

All he could think of in this moment was the fact that the boy was touching him, tainting him with his ignorance while he was actually just as guilty as Minho was.

His hands came up to touch the boy's shoulders, resting against the cold fabric of his shirt for a moment, before he pushed the boy away from him with such a force that he crashed right into a row of seats, his head hitting the backrest with a sickening thud on his way down.

''Felix.'' His voice was raw from the lack of use, shaky from anger and filled with despair, but it sounded nothing short of hollow to Minho.

It was the epitome of fatigue and it annoyed him because who was he to feel tired? Who was he to feel guilty? Disgusted? Angry?

He shouldn't feel anything, he couldn't even begin to understand the misery his brother had suffered and he was absolutely horrible for even trying to understand it.

He should be ashamed. As should Felix.

''Hyung?''

Minho had never hurt Felix, had never so much as laid a finger on him in anything that wasn't playful banter, but seeing the thin stream of scarlet that was dripping from his hairline as he struggled to get back on his feet made him realize that, for the first time, he had lashed out at him.

But he had already established that he was disgusting, so that checked out.

''Get out, Felix. This isn't your stop.''

It wasn't a threat. He didn't try to be threatening. Not yet anyway.

''It is'', Felix disagreed defiantly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to show Minho an all too familiar ticket. ''See?''

His hand was littered with tiny cuts as he held it out to him, the likes of which could only stem from repeated use of the ticket and Minho suddenly realized that Felix had probably been searching for him for a while now.

He had probably searched through every single one of the numerous night trains to find him, someone who had been there with him on that Tuesday, someone whom he could trust with the question he had and who understood that what had happened back there had forever changed them.

And Minho hadn't even bothered.

He hadn't even bothered breaking out of this routine he had made for himself because he'd been scared of remembering.

He didn't want to remember.

He didn't want to suffer.

He didn't. He would lose his mind if he did.

''It's been hard.''

The words bubbled from his throat before he could stop them, weak and miserable, and Felix approached him a second time, expression set in sympathy and slight regret.

''I know.''

Weary. He sounded weary all of a sudden and Minho knew why.

''I...''

He must have heard about it, there was no way he hadn't.

If Chan hadn't told him, Changbin surely had, simply because it had been such an outrageous statement to make that Minho doubted he could keep quiet about it for long. Not with his temper at least.

''Do you... know what they say? About me?''

Word spread fast, especially in an industry such as theirs, but he chose not to answer to that question, instead making a vague movement towards where his seat had to be.

The idea of going back there and having the disgusting smell fill his nose again was revolting, but he didn't see any other choice.

It would still take well over an hour to reach their destination and they had a lot of catching up to do after they hadn't seen each other for so long.

''Want to sit down for a second?''

The train's doors closed. Felix just stood there.

He was as pale as the stars that twinkled in the sky, a stark contrast to the red emergency lights that still flooded the train, and if Minho hadn't known better he would have called him a corpse.

A soft smile tugged at his lips at the thought, the nature of which was fleeting, just like the shadow passing over Felix's face.

''What did we do on Tuesday, Minho?''

He still didn't know, was just as innocent as he'd been back then and Minho couldn't bring himself to rid him of that comfortable innocence that explained the horrific events of that day so differently.

The proof lay at his feet, quite literally, but Felix couldn't see it.

He couldn't see so many things anymore.

And he didn't even have the decency of sharing that gift with him.

''Nothing'', Minho replied, voice steady and sure as he delivered the lie to the younger, almost as if he'd done so before.

He held out his hand in a silent demand and Felix succumbed to it, handing him the ticket without hesitation so that Minho could rip it into pieces.

The truth was ugly.

Beneath him, the train filled with murky water that was rising quickly, threatening to make him drown in his own lies, but he merely gave Felix a tired smile and repeated the answer he had chosen for himself too, in hopes that he could be forgiven.

''Nothing, Felix. Don't worry about it.''

[3/9] At the end of darkness, your unfamiliar call reaches me.


End file.
